


we were young, once

by orphan_account



Series: post nubes lux [3]
Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - US 21st c., Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bittersweet Ending, F/F, First Time, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 00:28:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10730439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: They meet in the summer of ’72.





	we were young, once

They meet in the summer of ’72.

It’s a coincidence. They were never supposed to meet. But there they were, in the same place at the same time. Houston is a big city, 1972 is a busy year for the both of them, and yet they went to the same grocery store on the same day at the same time, into the same aisle, reaching for the same loaf of bread.

Their hands brush, they look at each other, and they laugh. That’s how this story goes.

“Sorry,” Liz says – because she’s Liz right now, because she still has a few years before she grows into the name Elizabeth, because she’s still young and just recently married and everything is so big.

“It’s fine,” Hillary says – because she’s already Hillary, already growing into her role as a leader, because the world is big but she’s ready to take what she wants and leave nothing behind. “I don’t even really need bread.”

Liz chuckles, a little meek, a little awkward, and she takes the loaf.

Hillary watches her carefully and, because she is who she is, she asks, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No,” Liz says. “I, uh, moved here recently for my husband’s work.”

“Oh, I can relate to that,” Hillary hums. “Well, not husband, but boyfriend.” She smiles a little when she thinks of Bill and shakes her head, focusing her attention back on the present. “What does your man do?”

“He’s an engineer at NASA,” Liz says, voice filled with pride.

“Sounds incredible,” Hillary says, leaning against the shelves a little. “And what about you, what do you do?”

Liz shrugs a little. “I’m – I’m a teacher.” Because she is, technically, even with an “emergency certificate” or whatever it’s called. “For children with disabilities.”

Hillary nods, listening intently. “That’s very commendable work,” she says, and she sounds sincere when she says it.

“Thank you,” Liz says, unable to help a smile. She clears her throat. “I, uh, don’t think I introduced myself.” She holds out her hand. “Liz Warren.”

“Hillary Rodham.” She takes her hand and gives it a firm shake. “I’m not native here either – just here to work with my man, Bill – Bill Clinton – on the presidential campaign for George McGovern.”

“Oh,” Liz nods slowly, “yes, I think I’ve seen some of his campaign ads.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re good either.” Hillary smiles when Liz chuckles again. She checks her watch – shit, she has to get back soon – and then looks back. “Hey, do you want to get some coffee sometime? Not right now,” she quickly adds, “but later. Just – give me your phone number and I’ll set something up. I’d love to hear more about your job.”

Liz is taken aback a little – as is understandable, since she just met this Hillary Rodham and already they’re making coffee plans – but she gives her number anyway and watches as she scribbles it down on a notepad from her purse.

“Thanks,” Hillary says with a genial smile. She checks her watch again and swears under her breath. “Yeah, I really have to go. But, it was nice meeting you, Liz.”

“You too,” Liz says. She watches Hillary run down the aisle and up to the register. It’s obvious, it really is – that woman is going to go places.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The first thing they bond over is the fact that they’re here for other people.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Hillary says, taking a brief sip of her cappuccino and setting it down on the saucer, “working on a campaign is incredible experience. But, I mean, McGovern is no replacement for Kennedy.”

“Nope,” Liz replies, plainly. She sips idly at her tea.

Hillary chuckles a little. “Sorry – all of this talk must be going over your head,” she says, a little sheepish but unabashed. “This is my life, though – law, politics, all that jazz.” She moves her spoon around the cup and sits up straight, smiling at Liz. “Of course, education is probably more important than all of this.”

“They’re equally important,” Liz says. She smiles a little and trails off into a slow sigh. “I mean, I’ve always wanted to be a teacher and GWU would’ve been a fantastic opportunity, but, well, NASA accepted Jim and we just… I mean, it’s NASA.”

Hillary gives her a sympathetic look, pursing her lips together. “Men, right?”

“Tell me about it,” Liz says, and she drains the rest of her tea.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They grow closer together, slowly, spending more and more time together. Hillary’s always been loud but around Liz, she’s able to be a little quieter, a little more relaxed. And Liz has had enough of quiet, after spending so much time quiet, and around Hillary she can be a little louder, a little more open.

They complement each other and they cancel each other out and they open up.

“I think Bill’s going to propose soon,” Hillary says one day. They both ordered sandwiches but both of those lie untouched on their plates, between the two women. “He’s nice, he really is, but I mean, we’re both still in college and we both have our whole lives ahead of us and I’m just not sure…”

“Don’t do it,” Liz says, all of a sudden. She looks down at her sandwich when Hillary looks up from hers, then out the window on the side, out into the streets, where people walk out in the Texas heat. “Don’t do it if you’re not certain if you want to, if you have any doubts. Because if you have even the slightest doubts, then, well…” she trails off.

Hillary frowns a little. She reaches out and gently puts her hand on hers. “Is everything all right, Liz?”

Liz doesn’t turn her head, but she flips her hand over and gives Hillary’s a gentle squeeze. The rest of the lunch goes by in silence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

McGovern is losing. Bill is spending longer and longer nights on the road. Hillary brings her work home with her and when she feels like she’s falling into the deep dark pit, she goes to the phone and calls Liz.

“This whole thing is fucking killing me,” she admits, tired and brazen. “Why did I agree to this?”

“You wanted the experience,” Liz reminds her, a slight humor in her tone.

Hillary rolls her eyes. She leans back in her chair, cord stretching out a little more, and stretches her arm behind her head. “Come over.”

“Where?”

“Here. My apartment,” Hillary clarifies. “I’ll give you directions – it’s not that far from your school. You can spend the night too, if you don’t want to travel back at night.”

“Hang on,” Liz says. There’s nothing for a while, just some distant conversation and the sound of a television, and then she returns. “Fine, but one night. Is Bill there?”

“No, he’s out in San Antonio,” Hillary says. She sits up and grins. “It’ll be a girls’ night – just the two of us.”

Liz chuckles softly on the other end. “All right,” she says. “I’ll see you soon, then. Where is it?”

Hillary tells her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Neither of them intended to kiss, but it just happens. It’s late, they’re tipsy, their significant others are away as usual and sometimes, you just want to find solace in someone else’s arms. Someone who can understand and appreciate what you’re going through.

Liz is hesitant, uncertain, unfamiliar with something like this, and so Hillary takes the lead. She pulls off her clothes, gentle hands making quick work of the buttons on her blouse, and she kisses down the side of her breast. Liz leans her head back into the pillows and bites down on her lip.

Hillary keeps it gentle. She circles her labia with her fingers, thumb rubbing her clit and teasing her slowly, letting it build up bit by bit. She can see Liz’s hands gripping the sheets, her mouth hanging open in a silent moan that she finally vocalizes once Hillary finally presses her mouth to her cunt and starts to eat her out.

Liz comes quietly, for the first time, and Hillary kisses her through it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They’re lying in bed, limbs tangled in each other, heads on pillows as they stare up at the fan. The windows are open and the heat spills into the room, heading the sweat on their skin. Liz lets out a slow sigh, hand in Hillary’s, and she closes her eyes.

Hillary kisses her palm. “What are you thinking about?” she asks.

“I’m thinking,” she says, “about how nice it would be if this were real. If we did meet in ’72.” Her face is illuminated by a single lamp and she looks a little like she’s glowing. Her eyes are still closed.

“It would’ve been nice,” Hillary mumbles quietly. “It would’ve gone like this, I think. We were a lot the same back then. Back now. However it works.”

“Would you have left Bill?” Liz asks. “Would you have left him for me?”

Would she? She thinks about it and the scenes play out before her.

She hands the ring back to Bill, kisses his cheek and tells him he’s destined for great things, but he won’t care because she’s breaking his heart. She promises to call and he tells her not to bother.

She and Liz drive back to Yale in an old pickup truck, stopping at every mom and pop diner they see and sharing slices of apple pie. Their legs brush against each other under the table and they kiss under the covers at rundown motels.

She comes out to her parents and they take a while to come to terms with it. Her mother cries throughout the night, every night, and her father speaks out against Reagan when he does nothing to stop the AIDS crisis.

She becomes a politician – or, maybe she doesn’t. She has so many more obstacles now, but, then again, she never let that stop her before. Betsy and Liz and everyone else gets together and they go door-to-door to campaign and she becomes the mayor of New York by a landslide.

Chelsea isn’t born. Bill does nothing for the gay community. Monica Lewinsky lives her life as normal. Obama becomes the first African American president. She’s the first female Vice President and the first openly gay member of the Executive Branch. Liz is by her side.

They dance at the Inaugural Ball, a little older, a little wiser, and so in love.

It's a happy ending.

Hillary closes her eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hillary opens her eyes. She’s on the couch – she must’ve dozed off. Jake Tapper is on TV and Elizabeth Warren is talking to him about new book. She can hear Bill in the kitchen, whistling to himself.

She changes the channel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I had a dream about us.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“If we’d met when we were younger.”

“Things would’ve been much different then, wouldn’t they?”

“They would’ve.”

“Would you have liked that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“Can you just stay on the line?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.”

_I love you._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They didn’t meet in the summer of ’72.

They were never supposed to meet then. That’s not how this story goes.

Real life doesn't have happy endings. Not the kind they deserve.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I don't know if there will be a sequel.


End file.
